Henry
by cannotthinkofagoodname
Summary: What if when Peter Bishop Came back into existence so did someone else? Most of it will be set in the future but before 'Letters of Transit' My first fic so probably not great but you gotta start somewhere :
1. Chapter 1

October 2011-

The cabbie sighed as his last passenger of the day waved goodbye and ended what had been a _very_ long be fair 'waved' would be a overstatement. Henry was pretty sure that there was something dodgy about the guy he had just gave a lift too- he was too pale and seemed extremely bald. Henry snorted- he wasn't sure how someone could be 'extremely' bald, it's usually a case of you are or you ain't, but, there was just something about that guy that you couldn't of ever of pictured him with hair. The way he talked as well, there was definitely something odd about his voice, not like any accent Henry had ever heard before, Not that he had said much.

_But a customer is a customer...Especially when they tip a small fortune._

He wasn't exaggerating either. In his hand lay 50 hundred dollar bills. One would of done the trick. He rifled through the crisp banknotes, checking they were real. Hmm... they all seemed real, although he was no expert. Getting near the bottom of the pile there was a piece of paper, folded up all nice and neat. He unfolded it-

"_Make sure the child is safe."_

He turned it over and over in his hand but that was all that was written.

_What the hell? What child?_

A small cry from the back seat answered his question. Turning around he saw a baby. He let out a low nervous laugh.

_**That**__ certainly hadn't been there before._


	2. Chapter 2

2032-

Passing him on the street you wouldn't think much of Henry Junior. He looked like a perfect little observer-fearing, law-abiding citizen. The cheap suit he wore suggested that he had enough intelligence to rise above the inner-city sludge of underpaid labourers and construction workers, however the well worn look of it showed it was the only suit he owned. Probably not that well off then.

Getting to know him a little better would only confirm that first impression. He was a nice guy, sure, and he had come from a poor background, worked hard to get where he was. He was the type of guy that was mates with people but never really fully acknowledged, always in the background. He was handsome, smart and funny – Had he wanted to he could of been the centre of attention. But it was like he deliberately stayed unnoticed, something he had been learning to do since he was four.

He was a orphan, never knew his parents, however for the first 4 years of his life he had been surrounded by family. He lived those first few years of his life greatly loved and shielded from the harsh world. It was nothing more than a normal family, normal life but it was happy. Even though biologically he was not part of their family he was always treated the same as everyone else and loved them more than anything. Until that fateful night, when the observers tore that all away.

He remembered being huddled in a cupboard behind his big sister. Not daring to look as he heard the gunshots that took away his family, his happiness. He thought it was surely over when the door flung open in front of him, his sister screaming as she realised that this was the end. For her. For both of them. They would be dead, senselessly put down like dogs, before they even had a chance to live.

But by some sparse stroke of luck the observers had never thought to check behind his sisters body. A pathetic sigh of relief shot through it, before the sheer horror of what had just happened dawned on him. He crawled out from behind her. He couldn't believe it. They had killed her like she was nothing. They didn't know her. They didn't know what a wonderful, unique, funny person she was. They hadn't been the ones who had played with her, laughed with her, comforted her, be comforted by her. To them she was just something to be gotton rid of. Disposed of. It would have been her eighteenth birthday tomorrow. He sat in that darkness for what felt like a eternity. He was horrified by his sisters body but he knew it would be much worse outside. So he just sat in the darkness, crying silent tears for his dead sister.

Eventually he emerged, he expected the walls to be covered in blood with broken furniture and glass everywhere. But the bodies on the floor could of been sleeping, if it hadn't been for the bullet wound in their heads. In a way that was worse. He picked up the used bullet on the floor, its surface sticky with blood. It was amazing how something so small could take so much away from him.

He knew that his story wasn't special, thousands of people had been killed and there would be many people like him – people who had lost everything they loved. But that didn't mean that the death of his family would go unnoticed. They would not just be another number, another causality. He swore that night to make them acknowledge his family's death with the respect that they deserved.

And so , covered in blood and scared out of his mind, Henry was thrust into the harsh world of the observers.


	3. Chapter 3

2032-

Although Henry had been gifted with extreme amounts of intelligence, after the observers took over he had learned to appear perfectly normal. You see intelligent people tend to think for themselves, ask questions, rebel- Not what the observers wanted in their nazi-like society. He learned to always be in the background, never the special one. Most people didn't even notice him.

_Just Like they're doing now_

He had managed to walk straight through the city unnoticed, that was until he got to the giant glass doors of the so called 'Native Management Building'. Basically a slaughterhouse for anyone who did not fit in the picture of the observers utopian society.

"Name."

A order not a question. The security guard at the door was a human, the tattoo on his cheek showing his allegiance to the observers. Henry should have been disgusted by him, after all he essentially betrayed his own kind, but instead he just pitied him. Not everyone had the guts to do what Henry did.

"Henry Junior"

"_Junior? _Junior what."

"Just Junior."

Henry hated that name. He had lived the remains of his ruined childhood in a observer run orphanage, designed to brainwash kids into the observers beliefs. There had already been a Henry there however so he had become known as Henry Junior. Everyone had forgot his real surname anyway.

"Paperwork."

Henry handed over a stack of papers which the guard then rattled through, apparently satisfied.

A simple nod and he was let through the door. A couple of security checks and he was in the central lobby of the building. He had dreamed of this for years.

He moved quick looking for the store cupboard he had seen on the blueprints. Once inside he started his work. It was frustrating that the door didn't lock but he was pretty certain that he could take on anyone who walked through that door, after all he did have the element of surprise on his side. He pulled out his phone, it was a old model (not even holographic display!) but he found the retro controls on it were simpler to work with in a hurry and ,since it came before the observers took over, it didn't have any restrictions.

Hacking into the observer mainframe was surprisingly easy- the observers were cocky that their technological advances and confusing language would deter any attempt to crack them however, when it got down to basics it was actually very simple. He laughed a nervous victory as he passed the final firewall and he was in. Now everything in the building could be controlled by him!

With a series of frenzied clicks every file on their servers was his. He was doing a little dance of victory around the tiny room before telling himself to stop. He couldn't afford to get cocky- things could still go very wrong.

He carefully climbed up to a light fixture in the ceiling before removing the bulb, and more importantly the tiny amphilicite bomb hidden behind it. He couldn't help but laugh at the observers arrogance; they had no idea that a simple electrician would have the brainpower to build such a powerful bomb, let alone manage to smuggle it in the building.

_Of course they hadn't realised that the 'electrician' was actually a genius rebel with a personal grudge against them._

He set the timer on it, a little green light confirming that it was activated. He was almost tempted to put a little countdown on it but figured that it would be too cliché.

_Just one more thing to do._

With another few clicks on his phone all the prisoner cells were opened. Two birds with one stone- most of the prisoners would be able to escape the blast radius and now he had a nice bit of chaos and distraction.

_Now to get the fuck out of here._


	4. Chapter 4

The next day-

Sitting in a bar he looked at the battered TV screen with a sense of anticipation. Yes! He was still top news! A strange sense of pride rose in his chest as he read the headline

"Unknown Terrorist Hit On Native Management – No survivors."

It hurt a bit being called a terrorist though.

_I guess one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter._

However a small grain of guilt inside was growing bigger and bigger.- "No Survivors."

What if some of them had been human? What if he had left a child orphaned? What if he had done more harm than good? What if? _What If?..._

Each one of these questions drove the dagger of guilt further and further through his heart. He had never actually killed anything before- not even a stinkin observer. Suddenly he didn't feel so glorious anymore. _One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter._ Maybe he was a terrorist, after all he had done exactly the same as every terrorist in history – destroyed stuff, _killed _in order to get his point across. But they had always been the 'baddies' – the evil ones. He certainly didn't feel evil. Surely if anyone was bad, it was the observers. But surely that' what all those crazed gunmen and suicide bombers said – that they weren't the bad guys, they were fighting for what was right.

Why was he any different?

Each of these thoughts drove the dagger of guilt even deeper into his heavy heart.

The beer helped drown the guilt though.

Meanwhile,The news of the attack, seemed to have separated the bar -

There was the ones firmly against observer rule celebrating wildly – the most brave cheering and whooping , although most were more reserved. Most just looked rather scared, like a group of spofs in a class who doesn't want to disobey their teacher. Finally there were the loyalists sat in the far corner of the bar- looking pretty damn furious. Nobody really liked them but refusal to serve them would be a certain death sentence for the poor bartender.

A guy at the back of the bar – clearly and completely pissed- suddenly stood up.

"God Bless that magnificent bastard!" He half shouted half murmured, obviously too drunk to get his words out straight. "Taking DOWN those bald motherfuckaaaas."

No sooner had the word left his mouth when the loyalist descended on him- like a group of wolves on a deer. A deer that had had way too much to drink.

Henry looked over at the brutal pounding the poor guy was receiving. The tension in the bar had been building for hours and he guessed that that guy was unlucky enough to be the one to set it off. The people more calm than you would think-since the observers took control beatings like this had become common, everyday occurrences. Normally Henry would be unfazed by this sort of attack, but this? He felt responsible.

The horrifying sound of bones cracking echoes through the stuffy room. It became too much for Henry.

He had to do something...


End file.
